From a Person Who Will Die in Three Days
by XfoxxbloodX
Summary: Clive has been sentenced to death. When the jury asked if he had any last requests, Clive only asked for one thing... He wanted three days to write a letter to the people important to him.  Rated for character "death"  you don't see it happen
1. The Sentence

From a Person Who Will Die in Three Days.

-Clive has been sentenced to death. When the jury asked him if he had any last requests, Clive only asked for one thing… He wanted three days to write a letter to the people important to him.

…

"Professor, the trial's starting!" Luke shouted, keeping his eyes glued to the television. Luke's father had let Luke return to keep tabs on Clive's trial with his good friends, Professor Layton and Flora. It had been two months ago that Clive went on a rampage, destroying a part of London in his craze for revenge. It was now that the jury were finally going to deliver their verdict. Luke's stomach was doing flip-flops. He still held a little bit of resentment towards Clive, but he didn't want to see anything _bad_ happen to him. After all, Clive wanted only to right the wrong that destroyed his life ten years ago.

"Hold onto your hat, Luke," Flora replied. "We're coming." Both she and the Professor appeared and sat with him, watching the set closely.

"And we're back," the reporter said. "The nation had been holding its breath on the trial of its most recent threat. Two months ago, Clive Dove had taken an enormous world-destruction device and proceeded to terrorize the city of London. Thankfully, his plan backfired when the machine fell into the cavern below London and exploded. Now we take you to our live coverage of his trial, where the jury will deliver their verdict."

The scene switched, showing a room filled with anxious-looking people. They saw Clive instantly, focused ahead of him, looking at nothing. One man, a tall guy with brown hair, stood, looking quite nervous. He kept glancing at the people around him, who were giving him awfully venomous looks.

"Mr. Dove," he said, "do you admit to your crimes against the city of London?"

"I do," Clive replied evenly, not looking at him.

"The jury has reached its decision, then…" He looked down to the woman next to him, who gave him a nasty grin and nodded. "Mr. Dove…the jury has sentenced you to death."

There was complete and absolute silence in the room. Then, the lookers-on burst out cheering and clapping. They were overjoyed that such a madman was getting the ultimate penalty. In their view, London was safe from another psychopath.

Luke, Flora, and Layton could have been carved from stone. All they could do was stare and not believe what they'd just heard.

"No…no…" Flora was whispering, reaching out as if she could touch Clive. "No, that's not right…"

"Oh my Lord…" Layton breathed. "There's…how did they get the clearance to do that?"

Luke was shaking his head slowly. Something was pricking at the corners of his eyes. This was wrong, all wrong… it was so wrong… This had to be a dream. Sure, Clive had never been the friendliest guy around…but they were going to _kill him_?

Clive closed his eyes. Yes, of course…this was what he'd been expecting. It was only natural that no one wanted him around anymore. He wouldn't be surprised if the jury had threatened that poor guy or his family to deliver the verdict.

The judge called for order, but no one would settle down, so he called Clive up so he didn't have to shout.

"Mr. Dove, do you have any final requests?" he asked when Clive drew near.

"Just one, Your Honor," Clive replied.

"What is it?"

Clive hesitated, then looked him in the face and said, "I would like three days to write a letter to the only people who ever gave me a second thought. May I?"

His expression softened. "Yes, I don't see why not." Raising his head, he shouted, "Case dismissed!" and that was that.

The scene cut back to the reporter, who was beaming. "And there you have it, folks!" she said, barely being heard over the screaming crowd. "Be sure to stay tuned for more information!"

The screen cut to black. Layton had switched it off, looking half furious and half unbearably upset.

Luke could only wonder why. Two months ago, before he was thrown into prison, Clive had fully admitted what he'd done was horribly, horribly wrong. He'd said he wanted to atone for his crimes when he got out of jail. It wasn't fair that he was being sentenced to death. How would he make it up to the city he really loved so dearly now? How could he if he was _dead_?

…

In the courtroom, after everyone had left, the judge and the man from the jury approached Clive. They looked upset.

"Clive, I'm sorry," the jury man said quickly. "I tried, I really did! But they wouldn't hear of it…"

He shook his head, smiling. "It's okay. I chose my own path the moment I focused on revenge. You tried, and that's all that matters."

"I could've tried harder," he muttered, venom in his voice.

"Stop that." Clive smiled again. "It's okay, all right? I don't have any grudge against you or anyone else, and I never will. All you're doing is your job. There was nothing you could do. I knew the minute I stepped in here, from the looks on your coworker's faces, that I wouldn't be getting out of this alive. I knew, and I accepted that. Don't blame yourselves. This is where my path ends. It was…a nice run."

And with that, Clive was escorted from the building.

…

Upon returning to the place he'd called home for the past two months, he saw a stack of paper and a pen lying on top of it. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Here he was, sitting here, writing a letter for his only friends, knowing in three days he would die. Yes, this was quite a predicament.

"I'll think of it like a puzzle," Clive told himself softly. "A puzzle…with only one possible solution."

Picking up the pen, he began to write.

…

Those three days passed so quickly, it was like only ten minutes ago that he'd been told he was going to die. He was just finishing his letter when the bars opened. He looked up. There stood the man from the jury, looking quite sullen.

"Hello, again," he said gruffly.

"Hello," Clive replied, bending his head again, writing. "I'm nearly done. Could I have a few more minutes?"

"Yes."

The next minutes were almost completely silent, except for Clive's scribbling. After signing his name on the bottom, he looked up again. He glanced down at the letter, then held it out. "Will you deliver this to the address on the back for me? It's…all I have left."

He took it gently. "Yes." He hesitated, then said, "I'll let you go. I'll tell them you overpowered me. I don't want to do this."

Clive closed his eyes and smiled, but shook his head. It was tempting, but it was time he stopped running now. "No. This is my path. I'm going to follow it to the end."

"…If that's what you really want." He heard the footsteps and felt the needle, then knew nothing else but the comforting dark embrace of death…

…

Next chapter will be the letter.

Story dedicated in loving memory of Grammie. I miss you, you know… Wait for me up there.


	2. The Letter

-Here's chapter two, the letter.

…

The day after the trial had been shown live on TV, the Professor drove Luke and Flora to where Clive was being kept. The drive was mostly silent except for Flora sniffing occasionally in the back. Luke kept his eyes focused on his shoes. It was still unbelievable. How could the jury be so cold-hearted, so cruel? They weren't humans… they probably didn't have hearts. Or, if they did, they were made of stone.

Luke shut his eyes tight and didn't open them again until the car slowed to a stop in front of the building. When they entered and asked to see Clive, the Warden just smiled sadly and shook his head.

"Sorry, sirs an' miss, but I can't let ya do that," he said. "Dove said he don't want no visitors these last days of his. Says it would be too hard on everybody. He did tell me to give dis to ya, though."

The Warden handed Layton a piece of paper folded in thirds. They all stared at it, then looked back up at the man before him.

"Surely the jury hasn't called the…execution so soon?" Layton asked, forcing the word 'execution' past his teeth.

The Warden shook his head. "No, no, it ain't that. Dove said this explains why he won't let ya see him. Says you should go back and read it where you can sit down. I didn't read it."

Layton thanked him and led the two children back to the little red car. Luke glanced back to see the Warden watching them, looking like he pitied them. Luke quickly turned back around and kept walking.

…

When they were back home and sitting comfortably, the Professor reached for the note, unfolded it, and began to read.

_To Professor Layton and company,_

_Hello hello! If you're reading this, then it means you've tried to come and see me off. I applaud your efforts, but I can't allow that. You want to hear why, I'm sure. Luke is probably furious with me right now, isn't he? Well, give me a few moments and I'll try and explain…_

_First, think back two months ago. Do you remember when I lured you all to "future London" and pretended to be "future Luke"? I hope you do, it wasn't all that long ago. Anyhow…do you all remember how the Professor revealed my true identity? He turned and pointed dramatically, and I stood. It was very intense. You'll remember that at first I tried to deny I was who you said I was. I guess…I didn't want to believe it myself. But when someone other than myself told me of my plan, I completely lost it. I kidnapped Flora, and I terrorized the streets of London. But up until then…I was enjoying myself. I was being myself. I wasn't the all-consumed madman bent on revenge…I was…_

_I was Clive._

_You all saved me. And now, it's my turn to save you. Because, you see, if you come to visit me, everything will come loose. If you see me like this, like a caged bird about to be shot, then you'll never remember the good times we had. You'll remember me, sitting in a cell, being sentenced to death for being a terrorist. I don't want that, and neither do you._

_What day is it? How long has it been since the trial? Am I gone yet? Can I see you reading this note aloud, or to yourselves? I don't know, because right now, I'm still alive. Am I speaking in past tense? Well, I guess it doesn't really matter at this point. I'm going to leave this with the Warden now. I hope you see it soon. Be sure to read my letter when it's done, okay?_

_Clive, September, 18 years old._

…

Flora was sobbing. Luke was trying not to cry, but not having much luck. The Professor pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes as he finished reading aloud, trying not to think of how calmly Clive must have written this letter. How did one stay so calm in the face of death? He shook his head slightly. In two more days…

==…==

The two days passed with little other incident. On the third day, the sky was gray. There was drizzle. It was the kind of weather you stayed at home reading the paper in. but somewhere out there, one of Luke's friends…was…

He buried his face in his pillow. It was so hard to think about. It was so…unreal. It was a dream…

There was a knock at the door. Luke didn't want to get up, and he heard the professor, downstairs, getting up to answer it. There was a bit of talking, and the door was shut again.

"Flora, Luke," he called. "Come down, will you?"

Luke hauled himself off the bed, heading for the stairs. Flora was right behind them, and as they entered the room with their mentor, they saw something in his hand. It was rectangular and had some very familiar writing on the front of it…

Clive's letter.

This was it. This was the last time. This was the final straw. Numb, the children sat down on the couch. All three of them exchanged a glance, and Layton opened the letter like it held a bomb, and started to read.

_To My Dear Friends,_

_Well, I assume this is the last time I'll be writing to you. It's funny…how you never realize things until the very end._

By the time you read this letter, I'll probably be dead.

Three days. This is a future I cannot avoid.

_I guess…things just didn't turn out quite right. But…this path has led me here, and I intend to follow it. I can't avoid the things I've done, and it's time I atone for them._

It's not like I wanted this to happen to me.

Can you call this spacious room, my trembling fingers, and my loneliness a lie?

_I'm just now putting the pieces together that this is the real end. I was looking out the window, and I saw a bird fly away, singing. I thought of myself, and how I longed to be that bird. Perhaps this isn't what my life was really meant to be. I was so focused on revenge…I was blind to the rest of the world._

I'm having trouble writing the words I've written numerous times.

The black ink fades to purple.

_However…I'm going to stay calm. Panicking won't do anything to help me now, and weather you believe this or not, you won't be able to help either. I can't lie, it's hard to write like this, knowing what will happen soon. I've tried several times to write this down, but nothing every quite came out right._

Even if I break everything in my sight, all that's left is this feeling of emptiness.

"How should I use the rest of my seventy-hour life?" I asked myself as I picked up my pen.

_I tried keeping count of each hour as it went by, but it was so painstakingly hard, I gave up after two. Each hour felt like thirty seconds, but at the same time, it took an eternity to pass. Do you know what I'm talking about?_

I really don't have anything to say. I just write whatever comes to me.

"This world was so bright, so kind, and so warm…"

As I kept writing these trivial things, I would roll them up and throw them away.

_Perhaps I'm rambling now. But rambling is good, isn't it? It means I can get everything off my chest before those final minutes, where I'm cramming. I can write whatever comes to me for three days. I'm going to use my time wisely._

Next thing I knew, two days have gone by.

I've spent all my time writing my letter to you.

_I don't know how it happened, but now I find myself with one simple day to live. I kept asking myself "How? How did this happen?" but I already know the answer. I've spent this entire time writing to you three. I've lost track of everything. All that matters is finishing this letter and getting it to you safely. _

The irritation that was inside my heart is now calm and quiet.

It's as if I was watching a dream.

_Earlier, I said that I didn't know what happened to me. I said that maybe this wasn't right after all…but all those thoughts are gone now. I know what has to be done, what must be done, and what I have to do. I'm set on this goal, but I feel oddly detached… Is this normal?_

Far away under the sky…what are you watching and thinking?

This twenty-four hour life is too short to go to your side.

_You three are too far away now. I can't come and see you, and you can't come to see me. My life is too short to allow this._

It was sad, but at the same time I was relieved.

I find myself feeling relief that I would never see you again.

Because, if I met you, then everything inside me would come loose.

_Actually…I'm glad. This means we can all keep our sanity, or in my case, what's left of it. If we saw each other…no doubt Flora would start crying, and you too, Luke. Professor…you might. I don't really know. I know I would. If I saw you, then I'd start crying too, and I don't want that. I don't want to remember your faces downcast and eyes full of tears. I want to remember you as thoughtful and kind individuals who saved me from my madness, who rose to the challenge and defeated me like true heroes._

This quiet afternoon wind gently sways the curtains.

It's hard to believe that my world will come to an end in a few moments.

_The man's here now. Do you remember the one from the jury? The one who told the nation what was to become of me? It's him. He's allowed me to finish the letter to you. He's allowed me more time to live…but not for long._

This fine feeling of the autumn blue sky is too bright, even if I close my eyes.

Even if tears come flowing out, it's probably because of that.

_I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to huddle in the corner like a scared rabbit. I'll face my death with courage, just like you three faced me those long months ago. I'm going to be proud until the very end, and hopefully after it too._

Even if I only have a little time left, I'm going to live my life.

_I'm going to have the peace of mind that I finally made up all of the wrong I did. I'm going to have the knowledge that at the very end, I made up for everything._

Even if I lose everything, I'll always know that I lived my life.

_Even if…I won't see my parents or my foster mother again, I'll always know that I tried. And that, my friends, is how a gentleman faces death._

_From a person with three days to live,_

_Clive._

…

I nearly cried at the end here. *Sad smile*


	3. The Epilouge

**IMPORTANT! **You don't have to read this chapter to enjoy the story. If you want to stop at chapter two, be my guest.

-Last chapter, the epilogue. :3 I toyed with this idea and finally decided to put it up.

…

Only a few hours passed after Layton read the letter to Luke and Flora. Flora had been sobbing her eyes out, and Luke was crying too. They started hugging each other, overcome. Layton had shut his eyes and was biting the inside of his lip extremely hard to keep a straight face. It was all so much to take in.

Now, they all sat around the fire, finally having some peace of mind.

Clive didn't know where he was, but he knew he was dead. He didn't want to open his eyes. He was afraid of what he might see. Was there a reaper or…would there be gates of hell? He didn't know, and he didn't want to think about it.

That was curious too. He could _think_. He was dead…the dead didn't need to think, did they? It was all so bizarre…maybe he'd wound up someplace good instead of hell, as he'd expected? Hope surged up inside of him. Maybe he would get to see his family again. Or…was the devil just toying with him?

Clive's hope took a nosedive. There was a new thought. Maybe someone was just messing with his mind. Perhaps…it was all a dream?

He knew there was only one way to find out, but he was scared. What would happen? He wasn't sure if he wanted to open his eyes. He didn't know if he could. Would he be blind? Would it be so dark he couldn't see? Would he be dazzled by white brilliance? All of these thoughts tottered through his tired brain. There was only one way to find out.

_Well, since I'm dead anyway, what's the risk?_ he asked himself slowly. He hesitated, then slowly pried his eyes open.

At first, everything was so blurred, he couldn't make heads or tails of it. There was a bit of blue and some brown…and maybe a bit of orange? He had no idea what he was supposed to be looking at. The blue thing moved a little and said something weird. Clive dimly noticed this as a language he could understand, but his brain didn't want to process it.

He forced himself into a more aware state. Ah, yes, now he could see. The brown thing wasn't a splotch after all, it was…

"Flora!"

He sat up quickly, staring into her face. This had to be some sort of cruel joke. He had been right, someone was messing with his head. This was so…wrong. He was dead, wasn't he?

She stared right back, tears tinted golden, smiling. "Hello."

He looked around. What he'd been lying on was the Professor's couch, and there was a fire in the grate, giving the golden sheen to everything. It was probably the orange he'd seen. Luke stood near the top armrest, grinning. Layton sat in the armchair, smiling too. But…how could this be? This wasn't right.

"Wh-what…" He looked between them all. "What's…going on? This is some sort of stupid trick, isn't it? Someone's messing with me."

Flora shook her head. "No, it isn't. Please, Clive, listen…you're not dead."

He goggled at her. Not dead? How could that be? He remembered the needle, and the blackness. He _died_!

"Shall I explain?" Layton offered.

"Please do," Clive said dully.

His smile widened. "Well, let's see here. The man from the jury, do you know his name?" When Clive shook his head, Layton went on. "Well, his name was Mark, and he was a good friend of Spring and Cogg. The Warden and a few others were in on the whole thing. He didn't put the poison in the needle, Clive. He put anesthetic."

Clive couldn't breathe. They…had never meant to kill him? They were friends of Spring and Cogg? They had all been in on the plan to save him? He…wasn't dead.

"After he put you to sleep, Mark drove over here to deliver your letter. Then he went back and arranged everything. About an hour ago, he brought you here, and that's where you've been. He explained everything to us."

Clive felt faint. He didn't know weather it was because he'd been holding his breath, or because of the tremendous efforts that he'd just been told. Or, perhaps it was both. Flora caught on and gave him a stern look. Clive found his breath again after this.

"Then…you mean…"

"You're alive, and that's all that matters," Luke said, speaking up for the first time. He was grinning, and there was something tinted golden in the corner of his eye.

Clive paused, then waved him over. "Come here, you two."

Luke and Flora approached. Clive wrapped his arms around both of them. They couldn't see his face, but from the shake in his voice, they knew he'd finally given in to his emotions.

"Who could ask for better friends?" he whispered, not ever wanting to let them go.

…

Yay, happy ending. 8') I think this is nice. I'm happy with this story. It came out better than I thought it would've.


End file.
